Slipstream
by MattHarrisFF
Summary: There are things Lena Oxton has never told anyone, not even her peanut munching best mate Winston. Stories of a lonely old man in a blue box with hair to rival her own and big sad doe eyes. Slipstream did more than giver her a wibbly wobbly relationship with time, it took her to a man who had lost his faith in the universe, and more importantly, himself. Tracerx10thDoctor
1. Chapter 1

Lena Oxton, call sign 'Tracer' and agent number 3945_50. When she was a Kid she had always looked up to those who fought for good, battling against tyranny and taking down the bad guys. She'd always wanted to be a hero. The world could always use more heroes, right? That wish, no, need to help people moulded her as always child. She always got into scraps with the school bully, a girl twice her size with twice her muscle, and no matter how many times she got beaten down she would alway spring back up with a grin on her face, ready to take another round of hits. She was brave, she was strong, and she was currently not in the pilot seat of the Slipstream where she should have been fifteen minutes ago.

Winston paced back and forth through the mission control room of the Slipstream 001 launch site, taking occasional glances at the machine. It looked a lot like the space shuttles of old Earth, though while those vehicles were big and bulky this design had been slimmed somewhat. To stick with the references to old Earth Winston would have to say it resembled the lithe offspring between a Concorde and a Shuttle, designed for agility, speed and discovery. The forefront of the Overwatch Aerial Defense corps scientific research sat before them in all its glory, just waiting to break the boundaries that the likes of Einstein and Newton had only dismissed as fiction. Yet the pilot seat was empty and that troubled Winston a great deal. Lena was was a friend, a good friend at that, and he had been the one to suggest her for this particular endeavour. She was the best pilot the O.A.D.C had, unblinkingly brave and tremendously trusting, but even she could be shaken by the prospect of a teleporting fighter jet. He took off his glasses and delicately wiped the lenses, a nervous tic of his.

"I'm going to find her," he said gruffly, perching the spectacles back on his nose.

"Oh give her a few more minutes, she's probably just nervous," one of the scientists stated as he checked over some of the figures on his holopad before flipping back over to his game of Hearthstone.

The gorilla puffed a blast of air out of his nose and anxiously clenched the fingers on his front paws. "No Dave, you may be content to sit there and play this week's tavern brawl but I'm her friend… she needs me," Winston said, determined.

"Fine fine, I'll let you know if she turns up in the ship," Dave replied while dragging a card onto the playing field.

Winston suppressed the snort of disgust that threatened to erupt from his chest. Dave was like a lot of the Overwatch team. Even though Tracer was one of the best pilots Overwatch had ever seen they thought that she wasn't ready, that she was too young to take the responsibility of test piloting a highly experimental piece of technology. Naturally Winston disagreed, and being the chief amongst those creating the project, his opinion held much more weight than those lower down the rungs of the ladder. The quickened his pace, not wanting to waste another second, and sped towards Tracers quarters.

"I can do this, I know I can, so why am I so afraid?" Tracer murmured to the empty room. She was sat on the edge of her single bed staring at her reflection in her helmet. Her hair was uncharacteristically droopy and her brown eyes, usually bright and filled with the fire of life, betrayed the melancholy within. She didn't like feeling upset and helpless but that was exactly how she felt in that moment. If she couldn't face up to the Slipstream how on Earth could she face up to the forces of Talon as they waged war against the Omni? The easiest answer was that she wouldn't be able to, not at all.

"It's okay to be afraid you know," came the grumbling voice of Winston from her doorway. Tracer jumped a little from her seat, she was so enthralled in her thoughts that she hadn't heard her friend enter the room which was quite surprising considering he was a giant Gorilla. "In fact Lena I would be more worried if you weren't afraid, this is a huge undertaking."

Winston walked over to the bed and perched next to his friend, causing the bed to dip dramatically where his weight lay.

"Too many Bananas, eh mate," Tracer chirped, forcing the cheer into her voice.

"For the last time, I don't like bananas," Winston scowled back at her. It was an old joke between the two, one that only she could pull off without inducing some sort of rage fit, he almost found it endearing when she said it. It was no surprise when the both of them broke down onto a fit of booming laughs and giggles. "I should probably cut down on the peanut butter though," Winston said through his laughter, patting his belly with a paw.

"I'm scared Winny," Tracer murmured, coming down from her laughing high, "I'm don't know why and I can't explain it but I just am…"

Winston nodded and wrapped his arm around the petite woman, pulling her close to him in a comforting embrace. "This is the first mission of its kind, Tracer, and although you aren't going into combat there are some very real risks associated with it, you're going to be passing through subspace. No human has ever done that in mid air before! Especially not at the velocities the Slipstream is designed for," Winston said, smiling down at Tracer.

The woman in question had her eyes narrowed "Was that supposed to make me feel better about all this then?" She admonished, playfully slapping him on the arm. "It's safe, yeah, you made sure of that didn't you?"

Winston gave a short nod in response before getting up from Tracers bed, the springs groaned in relief.

"Well then, with that in mind… I think we can get this started," She grinned, tucking her helmet under her arm and springing up next to the ape, a grin back on her face for real this time.

Tracer stepped out onto the tarmac of the test facility to applause from all angles. Scientists were applauding, family were applauding and the press were all applauding and they were specifically applauding her. To a lot of people that kind of attention would be overwhelming, they would recede and become unsure of themselves. Not Tracer. Tracer loved it. The applause was like a drug and it went straight to her head. Placing her cocky smile onto her face she gave a half salute to the crowd and called out what was fast becoming a signature phrase, "Cheers luvs, the cavalry's here!"

The crowds went wild and as she stood, proud, before the machine that Winston and his team had constructed. Pictures were taken, sound bites were captured, and every moment from her walking onto the tarmac to getting into the cockpit was documented in detail. It would be a moment for humanity and omnic together to look back on. A moment, perhaps, that future generations may consider as a turning point in the war against Talon and Tracer would be at the heart of it all. Her worries were washed away by the love and cheers of them all, and as she slipped into the cockpit with her helmet now securely on her head, Tracer couldn't have felt more alive.

"Safety checks have all been completed, Slip-Drive is online and stable, preparing to engage retro boosters," Tracer announcer to Winston through the coms in her helmet.

"Take her up nice and slow Lena," Winston replied, "twenty percent thrust should do it until you get some altitude."

The scientists words seemed to go unheeded as the Slipstream launched itself into the air like a majestic eagle taking flight for the first time, screaming its way into the sky. Once more the crowd yelled in delight, once more Winston grumbled in distaste of his friends antics.

"Lena, careful, please. This is a highly experimental aircraft, we don't want you rupturing a fuel tank on its first run," he chastised, running a large paw over his face. He undoubtedly loved the woman in every way a super-intelligent gorilla scientist could love a young plucky human adventurer in a platonic sense, but she did get on his nerves from time to time.

"Approaching target altitude in ten seconds," Tracer stated, slowing the ascent of the experimental craft. "Slipstream drive is at prime conditions, I can start her up whenever you want Winston."

His fear and anger had been replaced by a giddy excitement that welled up from the depths of his chest, bubbling out in the form of a nervous chuckle. "Okay Tracer, prepare to engage the Slipstream drive. The coordinates should be set for the Beta test site, can you confirm?"

The coms were silent for a moment and Winston couldn't help but fiddle with his glasses. Checking coordinates that had been pre-planned into the machine shouldn't have been something that took more than a second, let alone the half minute he had been waiting.

"Coordinates set and locked," the reply from Lena eventually came in, Winston sighed and and visibly sagged slightly in relief.

"Countdown has begun, time synchronisation in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five-"

"Four, three, two, one, dials are in synch Slipstream reactors will engage in thirty seconds," Lena announced, counting down in time with the gorilla.

"Good luck Lena, there's a nice portion of chips at Beta waiting for you," Winston said, trying to keep the shakes out if his voice.

"I look forward to eating them Winny," Lena chirped back over the whirring of the slipstream drive powering up.

One moment she was there, the stealth craft glinting majestically in the sunlight, and the next the ship and its occupant HD disappeared in a flurry of blue motes.

Her last scream would haunt him forever, her death was one he blame himself for until his own.

Today was a bad day for The Doctor. Today was a day that had etched itself onto his hearts and was not one he would likely forget. Demons he thought long lost resurfacing once again, both in the faces of fiends and the faces of enemies, and new demons freshly forged in the heat of battle. He had fought so hard and for so long and once more he was all alone in the winding halls of his TARDIS, his only comfort being the tickle of her psychic presence and the distant clanging of the engines and power converters. Saving the universe at the cost of his own seemed to be an unbreakable habit and part of him always came away feeling like he somehow deserved it. The destruction of Gallifrey weighed heavier on his shoulders now than it had in decades, dual genocide always seemed to have that nasty habit of jiggling at his morality even if him not acting would have led to the complete destruction of the universe.

It was the cloister bell that brought him out if his melancholy. He didnt know how long he had been moping around in the TARDIS, his mouth tasted heavily of drink and bile and he felt as if he hadn't eaten in days. Part of him wanted to just say forget it and let the bell toll until whatever catastrophe that was going on consumed him and the TARDIS all together, perhaps then he would finally get some peace. He could just lie there on the floor of whatever room he was in at the moment and let the nothingness claim him like it should have done all those lifetimes ago under that burnt orange sky in that old barn in the desert.

The bell kept ringing, more and more intently and urgently, each dong boring deeper and deeper into his brain. Carving out a space and sitting there until something were to be done about it.

"Fine," he snarled, "I understand. I get it. I'll get up, just shut off that bloody bell."

His voice echoed in the space the cloister bell left. He rose slowly, gingerly, his head splitting and his body aching due to the neglect he had put it through over the past weeks, months, years. In honesty he didn't know how long it had been since he had sapped Donna of her memories, each day felt like yesterday and yesterday was too big a heartache to think about just yet. He staggered from the room, he thought it was one of the many library or maybe it was a swimming pool or perhaps even both. The TARDIS had connected the room he was in to one of his ships many underused docking bays. In it sat a smoking ship that vaguely resembled an airplane and within its cockpit an unconscious woman with blood seeping over her forehead from just below her hairline.

"What?" The Doctor murmured to himself, taking another uncertain step into the room, feeling more alert than he had since he stopped counting the yesterday's.

AN _ **: I'm actually surprised that someone hadn't coined this idea before myself. This story takes place before Lena became a fully fledged member of Overwatch, at which point she was lost in time for months due to the failure of Slipstream, and just after the Doctor lost Donna to the meta-crisis. The Doctor is going to be slightly dark and lena will try to help heal him, and vice versa. Yes. This will probably end up being Tracer/Doctor and will probably end up only being slightly AU for Doctor Who. Hope you enjoyed this introduction and enjoy the future of the story!**_


	2. Chapter 2

"What?" The Doctor murmured to himself, taking another uncertain step into the room, feeling more alert than he had since he stopped counting the yesterday's.

The Time Lord reached into the pocket of his jacket to find his Sonic Screwdriver before realising that he hadn't worn the jacket he kept it in for months, doing so just brought back the aching in his hearts. It was an ache he could feel building in his chest already, this had already happened. A girl zapped into his TARDIS with no explanation until he investigated and became invested. It was Donna all over again and he wasn't ready for it, losing her like that was still raw on his hearts. Part of him wanted to get the TARDIS to jettison the ship out into the wastes of space so he could dose himself with the black crystals he had become so reliant on and forget it even existed.

But no, he couldn't do that. The itch was already there, that insatiable curiosity to find and who she was and where she came from and how she had even managed to dock with a TARDIS mid flight in the vortex in an unused docking bay. It was there, niggling away in his mind, that unstoppable desire to help and protect and discover that had been buzzing inside him since he was merely a little loomling on Gallifrey. He reached for his jacket pocket, forgetting again that his jacket was being worn by some shady backstreet dealer in favour of two Stardust packets.

"Damn it," he snarled, resolving to pop the hatch on the ship manually.

Whilst he didn't strictly recognise the design if the craft or the bright orange 'Overwatch' logo on its side he knew that almost any ship with an exterior cockpit had safety releases on the outside as well as the inside, basic safety and logic dictated it. A ship entering the docking bay of a TARDIS in mid flight should have been impossible, but then, he was used to impossible. He cleared the room in a few wide strides and laboriously climbed atop the craft, his well trained eyes quickly locating the release switches on the cockpits hull. They detached with a heavy clunk and a long hiss of air before the glass like material folded neatly back on itself and back into the ship.

Now that the steamed up glass was out of the way the Doctor had a better view of the ships occupant. She was clad in an orange and blue flight suit from head to toe with a helmet over her head, all of which would have been very fine if it wasn't for the damage her gear had sustained. As it stood there were several tears across the front of the woman's jumpsuit and the little tube that should have been supplying her helmet with oxygen had come disconnected, which would have been worse if not for the cracks in the front of the helmet letting in a slither of air. Nevertheless the Doctor tugged the helmet off of her head. The first thing he noted was the woman's hair, it was much like his own, if not even longer and more unruly. The second thing he noted was a trickle of blood seeping from underneath that long, unruly hair. He cursed again under his breath and scooped the woman up, she would need to be looked over in the med-bay, he could wonder how she got into the TARDIS after she was in a more stable condition. He struggled with the weight of the woman. Whilst she wasn't exactly heavy the Doctor hadn't eaten or slept for a while, the nightmares in his head and the churning in his stomach making it impossible to do so, and he had become much weaker than he was used to.

The TARDIS had moved the med-bay so that it was directly next to the hanger he was in, there would be no long heavy walks involved, which was a good thing considering how much just maneuvering the young womans body down from the cockpit of her ship and back onto the ground had taken out of him. The medical room was wide, open and unlike other rooms in the TARDIS it was completely clean from the Doctor's messy ways. He didn't use the room much both because he hated to admit when he was feeling ill and the six identical beds lining the walls just served to remind him that he was the last Time Lord and no one would ever arrive to pilot his ship alongside him. So many beds that would never be used and he was to blame. The Doctor dismissed the morbid thoughts and staggered over to the closest bed before gingerly laying the mystery woman down, being careful enough not to hurt her.

A thin piece of glass like material rose up and from the side of the medical bed and arched over the girl as soon as The Doctor gave it the room to close. The process from there on was automatic, the TARDIS medical systems would scan her body, figure out what species she was and then inject her with a shot of nano-probes that would have been specially designed to combat both her unique injuries and her unique physiology. Nevertheless the Doctor couldn't help but want to watch over her. It was that damn need to protect, to serve the innocent, to make sure that anyone in his care was okay. With his companions he always felt it, that duty of care, the instinctual desire to make sure that anyone around him never came under any harm. He couldn't help but let out a derisive snort at that point, he hadn't ever been very good at looking after those he cared about the most. They all ended up irreparably damaged some way. Maybe this girl would be the first he would actually heal, maybe this time he could live up to his name… The Doctor.

There was a subtle pull at the back of his mind. He knew what it was, he felt it often, the TARDIS trying to get him to slip into one of the beds as well where she could look after him like she was designed to do. It would be easy of course, easy to give into his hunger and fatigue and depression and let the TARDIS look after his beaten form. In a way it felt like giving up, he was the Doctor after all. He was meant to be the healer not the one being healed. The tug became more insistent, a yanking right at the base of his skull where it met the spine so hard that the time lord couldn't help but give a hiss of pain. She wasn't happy with him, well, she hadn't been happy with him for a very long time. In all their years of travelling the TARDIS had never known the Doctor to be so completely and utterly lost, so unwilling to accept her help. He hadn't used the Zero room in years. The TARDIS felt completely justified in her shock when her thief finally allowed himself to collapse in the bed next to their mystery guest.

 _ **AN: Now, you may have noted that this chapter is shorter than the last. Well done you! Basically, I want each chapter to be in a nice bite size easily readable chunk. Reading this here chapter should take you anywhere between 5-7 minutes if you read at an average pace (no, I dont know what that means but hey the internet said it so it must be true) and that's about exactly what I want for each chapter. So, I hope you enjoyed. I'm trying to get one of these out a week or more. Not sure yet. Hopefully or more. I live a busy life you know, and Overwatch competitive just came out. So that. We're still the only OverWho fic by the way, which is just absurd.**_


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